Maria figured given the news shed just received she could take one night off from cooking. Besides, the kids had been asking for Chinese takeout for two weeks now. Maybe shed treat them to soften the blow of what needed to be discussed.

Her cellphone glowed in the night as she stopped by her car, Googling the phone number of their favorite Chinese place. Before pressing the Call button, she tried to remember that weirdly named dish her son liked. Moo shoo? Some kind of pork, she muttered.

With her eyes still on her phone, she just barely saw the figure come rushing around the front of her car. For a very strange moment, she thought it was a ghostsome odd amorphous shape moving through the night. But then she saw it was simply because the figure was dressed in all black. She saw the shape of a hood pulled over the head but that was it.

Before Maria could make sense of anything else, there was a blinding, sharp pain in her stomach. She opened her mouth to scream but could not draw any air. The dark figure in front of her seemed to grow darker as the pain continued.

Stabbed. Ive been stabbed.

This fact came slamming home as the blade was drawn out. Maria fell against the side of her car, trying to draw in a breath while also trying to get a clear look at her attacker. Her eyes did fall on the attackers face but it was quickly replaced by the shape of a knife that was stained with her own blood. She locked eyed with the killer for only a moment. She could tell it was a man because he was muttering something to himself. The voice was masculine and hurried. She could not tell what he was saying, but it certainly seemed like a one-sided conversation.

…if I want to get it done…and quick…just do it and…

This oddity distracted her long enough to miss the sight of the knife that came down and across her neck in a vicious slashing motion.

It felt almost like a papercut at firsta papercut and nothing more. But then it felt like her entire neck had been torn open and the last thing Maria Ramirez felt before she slid down the side of her car and to the pavement was her blood, warm and pumping freely, cascading down her chest. She could still hear the killer talking, which was odd, because even as the life poured out of her, she was quite certain her killer had been alone.

CHAPTER TWO